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type of poem

questa ciotola d'argento antica di mine
in qualche luogo ho letto un racconto sconosciuto, vecchio, arrugginito
nei loro regimentals ragged
nobility della morte ancora
basso! 'tis un la notte di gala
diami la fame
non rimanga nient'altro
uccelli contro il vento di aprile
impaurito nient'altro, dico
là dalla finestra nella vecchia casa
ero un goddess ere il marmo lo ha trovato

 



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